“Maybe you should start seeing a counselor?” Stephanie suggested.
“I don’t want to start seeing a counselor. Josh isn’t,” Liz replied.
“At the very least, Tyler should be,” Stephanie said.
“He is. There is a woman that comes up to the school every Thursday to meet with him. She pulls him out of class for a couple of hours. He seems to be handling everything well, Stephanie. He’s quiet about it all but he is helpful around the house. I hear him laughing with his friends on the phone.”
“It’s not even been two whole months Liz. He’s probably still in shock.”
“Yeah.”
Stephanie put her arm around Liz’s shoulders and pulled her closer. The two friends sat together on Liz’s grey microfiber couch, the T.V. on but the volume turned down. Liz let her eyes slip closed.
“I’m exhausted, but I can’t ever sleep,” Liz said.
“Grief is powerful Liz. I’m not surprised you can’t sleep. Have you thought about talking to your doctor? Maybe some medicine would help for a time? Until you figure out a new routine?”
Liz breathed a heavy sigh and shrugged. “Why me, Stephanie? Why can’t I be the one going on about life like everything is fine? I feel stuck and I’m so angry because Josh is acting like nothing even happened.”
“He’s struggling too, Liz. It just looks different than your struggle. You’ve both been through so much. You need to hang on to each other,” Stephanie said.
“Is he?” Liz sat up, turning to face Stephanie. “Is he struggling? Because nobody can tell he is. He won’t talk about it. He won’t talk to me. I can’t take down the pictures or give away any of Colby’s things, or pack up his room, or even pick up his room.” Liz’s voice raised with each word. She stood up. “He just wants his bagel before work and off he skips like everything is normal!” She paced across the living room, turning and wagging a finger toward Stephanie. “NOTHING IS NORMAL!”
Stephanie sat quietly on the couch, watching her friend. Tears filled her eyes and she nodded, “You’re right. Nothing is normal.”
“I don’t need you to tell me I’m right!” Liz pinned her friend with an angry stare, then stormed out of the room. She slammed her bedroom door shut, locked it, and collapsed at the foot of the king-size bed she shared with Josh. She wrapped her arms around her legs and let her forehead drop against her knees. Deep sobs shook her whole body.
God, why? Why me? Why Colby? Why didn’t You do something? Did You forget us? Do You love us? This is not fair. I just want my family back the way it was. We were a good family; we were good together. And now everything is ruined, and You didn’t stop this from happening. Why, God, why?
Tyler came in the front door with his backpack slung over his shoulder and his headphones on. When he saw Stephanie cooking, he pushed the right side of his headphones off his ear and leaned against the counter.
“Is my mom here?” Tyler asked.
“She’s in her room.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think so. She’s been in there for a while now. I was kind of hoping she’d fallen asleep.”
“She hasn’t been sleeping, so that would be good.” Tyler looked away after admitting this.
“What about you? Have you been sleeping?”
Tyler hesitated. Stephanie rinsed her fingers at the sink, rubbed them on a towel, then came around to Tyler and wrapped him in a big hug.
“There is no wrong answer. It’s okay if you have been. It’s okay if you haven’t been,” she assured him.
“I’ve been sleeping okay.” He pulled away from her. “I’m having a hard time focusing in class. My teachers have all been real cool about it, but I’m not getting my work done.”
“That’s not unusual. Have you told your counselor?”
“Counselor?” Tyler raised his eyebrow.
“Your mom said you see a counselor at school once a week.”
Tyler shook his head.
“Because you don’t want to see a counselor or …?”
“I’ve already said too much.” Tyler shoved his hand in his pocket and took a step back.
“No, you haven’t. You can talk to me Tyler.” Stephanie motioned for him to follow her. She led him out the front door and she sat at the table on the front porch.
“I know your family is going through a lot right now.” Stephanie sat in one of the chairs around the patio table.
“Yeah.” Tyler kicked his foot against the concrete. Dropping his bag on the ground, he plopped into the chair across from Stephanie.
“Did you ever meet with the counselor?” Stephanie asked.
Tyler shook his head and leaned forward on the table; his voice was quieter now. “They needed a few papers filled out. I asked my mom a couple of times, but she never signed off on it. So, I just dropped it.”
Stephanie reached across the table and laid her hand on Tyler’s arm. “Thank you for telling me. I know you told me it’s hard to focus in class. What else is hard now?”
Tyler gritted his teeth and looked down at the table, he cleared his throat to speak but stopped himself and took a deep breath, finally saying calmly, “Everything is hard now, Aunt Stephanie. Everything.”
“That was a stupid question, I’m sorry Tyler.” Stephanie squeezed his arm and pulled her hand back.
“No, it wasn’t stupid. I don’t want to make anything harder on Mom. She’s not been herself since...” He swallowed thickly. “...since Colby’s suicide. But Dad doesn’t seem like he even noticed that it happened.”
“How so?” Stephanie asked.
“Mom has asked him to take Colby’s baby picture out of the foyer, mentioned donating his clothes and sports gear, or even just cleaning and packing up his room. Dad acts like Colby will be home in just a day or two, so he refuses to let her do any of it. He just gets up and eats his usual breakfast and heads to the office and comes home like everything is normal.”
“Nothing is normal,” Stephanie said softly.
Tyler nodded his agreement, continuing, “Things are tense between him and my mom. I just try to slip in and out quietly. I don’t want to rock the boat.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
“And did Mom tell you about the stupid horse?” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Colby bought a horse for who-knows-what-reason, and Mom said they should just sell it. Oh no, now Dad wants to become a horse expert or something and hang on to this horse because it must have really meant something to Colby. We didn’t even know about it. The whole thing is ridiculous.”
“Like…a real horse?” Stephanie raised an eyebrow.
“Yep. The lady at the barn called about needing to collect the fees for keeping it or something. I don’t know the whole thing. Just that Dad keeps trying to make Mom go feed and water it since he’s at work all day. It’s seriously stupid, Aunt Stephanie.”
“Have you gone out to meet this horse?” Stephanie asked.
“Nope and I don’t plan on it.”
She nodded and looked out over the backyard.
“I didn’t mean to unload on you. I just haven’t had anyone to really talk to. My friends wouldn’t get it, you know?”
“I know.” Stephanie leaned back in her chair, then rocked forward and rested her elbows on the table. “I have an idea, but you don’t have to agree or anything.”
“Okay.”
“What if I took you to counseling once a week after school, or even on a Saturday? You don’t have to rock the boat or feel bad for unloading on me. But this is a big deal and I think having someone to talk to and working through this grief and learning how to live with it… Well I think it would be a good idea.”
Tyler was hesitant, staring down at his lap, then finally looking up at her, “I’d like that. I wanted to start counseling. I know it is a good idea. But insurance won’t cover it without my parents signing off.”
“Don’t worry about insurance. I know a guy that I think you would like, and I’ll pay for it for now.”
“You don—”
Stephanie waved her hand and cut him off. “I’m going to. I’ll call him and get an appointment set up.”
The smell of chicken stir fry wafted through the house as the meat and vegetables sizzled in a skillet on the stove. Liz eased the bedroom door open and inhaled the pleasant aroma. Tyler sat at the table doing what looked like homework, Josh sat at the bar talking to Stephanie, and Stephanie stood in front of the stove, turning the knobs to shut the burners off.
“Do you want to go see if Liz is awake so she can eat with us?” Stephanie asked Josh.
“I’m awake.” Liz walked around the table and sat with her back to the bay window.
“Did you get any rest Mom?” Tyler asked.
Liz shook her head. The dark circles under her eyes were becoming more obvious. Her brown, wavy hair was disheveled.
“Maybe you could take some melatonin tonight to help you sleep.” Josh stood from his seat and helped Stephanie bring plates, silverware, and the pan to the table.
“Put your homework up. Let’s eat a proper dinner tonight Tyler,” Josh said.
“Shall we say grace?” Stephanie asked.
“Sure,” they all replied and bowed their heads.
As Stephanie said, “Dear Lord,” Josh’s voice rose above hers, “Good food, good meat, good Lord, let’s eat!” He chuckled and everyone looked up. He started scooping food onto his plate.
“Smells delicious.” Josh dug his fork into the steaming vegetables and shoved a bite into his mouth.
“It does smell good. Thank you for cooking for us Aunt Stephanie,” Tyler said.
Liz took it all in quietly, putting a small scoop of food on her plate and pushing it around with her fork. She nibbled a small bite of chicken.
“Tastes pretty good too,” Josh said around a mouthful. “It’s nice to have a hot dinner tonight.”
Liz straightened in her chair. Stephanie looked at her dear friend. The anger that bubbled over during their earlier conversation seemed just as present with Josh’s comment. She wondered if Liz would unleash on him.
“I know you are all busy and dealing with so much. I should have come and made dinner sooner,” Stephanie commented.
Tyler reached over to Liz and rubbed his hand over her back. She took a deep breath and ate a small piece of broccoli from her plate.
Josh scooped more food onto his plate and got up to refill his water. “Anybody need anything while I’m up?”
“No, thank you,” Stephanie and Tyler responded. Liz didn’t answer.
The rest of the meal was eaten in relative silence. When everyone was finished, Stephanie set to cleaning up the table and washing dishes.
“You don’t have to do all this,” Tyler told her. “I can clean up after I finish my homework.”
“Nope, you take your homework to your room. I’ve got the kitchen.”
“Thank you.” He grabbed his homework and backpack and disappeared to his bedroom. Liz was already long gone down the hall to her bedroom. Josh sat at the table alone, staring out the window.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Stephanie said.
“Did you talk to Liz today?”
“Earlier, yes. Why?”
“What did you talk about?”
“I suggested she start counseling, but she was resistant to that idea.”
“Years ago, I tried to suggest counseling when we were having some trouble. I can’t even remember why, but we were arguing a lot. She said counseling is like admitting defeat.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know. She even said that only crazy people need counseling.”
Stephanie rubbed her hand up the side of her face and across her forehead. She slumped into one of the dining room chairs and leaned her elbows against the table.
“I wish people would get past notions like that. I think everyone needs counseling,” she said.
“Maybe so, but she doesn’t agree.”
“She seems angry.”
“You’ve noticed it too?”
“She exploded this afternoon. She feels like you’re acting like things are too normal.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.”
“You aren’t supposed to act any certain way. You’re just supposed to navigate your way through this, with your family, the best way you know how.”
“I don’t know how.”
“One foot in front of another,” Stephanie said.
Christy held Dusty’s lead rope in one hand and rubbed the quiet mare’s face with the other. Ronnie, a pudgy, older man, was bent over holding one of the mare’s front feet between his legs and trimming her hoof. Liz watched from several steps back.
“Are you sure that doesn’t hurt her?” Liz asked.
“Been doin’ this my whole life. I’m sure.”
“It can hurt them. Your farrier can make or break your horse,” Christy said.
“So how do you know if you hurt them?” Liz asked.
“It’s kinda like this.” He spat brown, tobacco-stained saliva to the ground. “You trim your nail too short, your finger hurts until it heals. Except they walk on their feet. It’s important to get the right angles. Pay attention to the heel and the toe.”
He grabbed his rasp and ran it across the bottom of the hoof. Liz’s eyes grew wider and she tightened her arms against her chest.
“If it was hurting, Dusty wouldn’t just stand here,” Christy said.
“Nah, she’d have a real fit.”
Ronnie made his way around to all four of Dusty’s hooves, trimming and filing each one. When he finished, he walked around the mare and collected the biggest trimmings in his gloved hand.
“You still want some for Koda?”
“Of course.” Christy took two pieces from Ronnie.
“Got any dogs Miss Liz?”
“No, no dogs. Do dogs like to eat those?” She curled her nose and one side of her mouth curved downward.
“Dogs love ‘em,” he said.
He let himself out the gate with his tools. His little pickup fit down the path between the paddocks quite nicely, which made it easy for him to take care of the horses without dragging his things all over the place.
“This is the last one today Ronnie. We’ll see you next weekend,” Christy said.
Liz stroked her hand over the top of Dusty’s back and then scratched her side.
“Do you know how Colby acquired her?”
“Well, he asked me to help him. He responded to an ad of mine.”
“Did he say why he was looking for a horse?”
“He told me he’d never owned a horse or even been around one. But a girl from high school had one. He told me she said that horse was how she made it through some tough things.”
“Did he say he was going through tough things?”
“No, not at all. I assumed he was going to try to impress the girl. He was patient while we looked for the right horse. But as soon as he met Dusty, he had to have her. I don’t think anything could have persuaded him. It’s a good thing she’s a good girl. He could have ended up with a really crazy horse.”
“Did he bring the girl around?”
“Nope, never mentioned her again. In fact, I don’t think he ever even said her name. He came out to take care of this sweet girl twice a day. He brushed her, sat in her pen with her. He took one lesson every week. But he would only ride one time in between his lessons. I told him he was welcome to come out and practice more. He liked riding, but it didn’t seem to matter what he was doing with her, he just liked being with Dusty.”
Bumping Christy with her dark muzzle, the mare blew out a hard breath. Christy tickled the mare’s upper lip with her fingers and in response, Dusty lipped gently at her wiggling digits.
“Did he ever get mad at Dusty?”
“No, never.”
“You?”
“Did he ever get mad at me?” Christy raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, did he?”
“No. We got along well. He enjoyed his lessons. We always talked for a while after he was done.”
“Did he ever get upset with someone else out here?”
“No, Liz. Why all the questions?”
“Just trying to figure out the things I didn’t know about his life.”
“He came out that morning. He brushed Dusty for a while and he fed her. He seemed fine. He talked about our lesson in a few days and that he was wondering if anyone would want to ride the trails with him. I didn’t see anything different in his demeanor that morning.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nothing. He was peaceful, calm. Collected. When he didn’t answer my phone that night about feeding Dusty, or again in the morning, I thought it was odd. But I’ve had boarders just stop showing up before. I’ve had boarders never show up again. So, I thought I’d give it a little time. I did try to call him a few more times. I was not expecting the news when I called you. It broke my heart.”
Dusty swished her tail and stomped her foot. She swung her head around and raked her teeth across her ribs. Eyes wide, Liz took a step back. A chill ran down her spine. “Does that hurt?”
“Nah, she wouldn’t do it if it did. Horses don’t like pain. She just has an itch.”
Christy reached up and started scratching Dusty’s ribcage. She pulled her neck up, stretching her head high and bobbing it a few times.
“I think I’m going to head home now,” Liz said.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help. I know you want to know why this happened, but sometimes that’s an answer you’ll never find. And even if you get close to why, you won’t want to accept it. It’s best to just move on and figure out how to find purpose in this pain.”